


Contract Killer

by feckyeswriting (firelord65)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Organized Crime, Multi, Pining, Pre-Poly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 01:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14582439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/pseuds/feckyeswriting
Summary: It doesn’t matter how good you are at your job if you can’t bring yourself to do it. Armitage has never had a problem pulling the trigger before, but, well, this time things are a bit different.





	Contract Killer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kuresoto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuresoto/gifts).



The dossier appeared in Armitage’s locker one day when he came back from the elliptical. That was how things were done. Go about the daily routine. Waste an hour on a bullshit exercise regimen. Come back to a thick manila envelope and a wire transfer of ten thousand or so dollars into one’s Swiss bank account. 

Half up front, half on delivery. 

Armitage slid the envelope into his gym bag, threw one strap over his shoulder, and nodded politely to the underpaid college kid watching the front door. When he was twenty he’d already taken out four marks. You wouldn’t find the son of Brendol Hux working at a Global Fitness for eleven bucks an hour. At twenty-seven now, Armitage counted his marks in empty ammunition boxes.

There was a careful balance to be struck as a successful hitman. Too much indifference and you’d be caught by some eagle-eyed surviving sibling or spouse hell-bent on revenge. Too little and you couldn’t pull the trigger. Armitage took care to ensure he wouldn’t be caught off guard nor red handed. He preserved every detail of previous targets in a series of encrypted drives which were stashed in safety deposit boxes. As an added measure of safety, they were striped and unreadable without their matched pair. Sure, it was a nuisance if he ever needed to retrieve the data on a whim, but the security was well worth a plane ticket to the remote locations he’d selected. 

No one would get the drop on Armitage Hux. He had to appear within all reasonable doubt to be the halfway successful - if paranoid - data security analyst that his cover suggested. That meant remaining lithe and flexible rather than muscle bound; practical in his purchases instead of unreasonably affluent; and warm and approachable when all he’d much prefer would be to tell the next irksome commuter on the train with him to keep his damned mouth shut because  _ no, he didn’t much care about that interesting scuffle in the city council last meeting _ . 

Armitage ignored the black envelope at his back even when it was Chatty Charles stop on the metro. Perhaps a rookie would have delved into its contents while in full view of strangers. Or he could have chanced a glance when he returned to his car - an affordable sedan with upgraded seating that he’d said  _ ‘no thanks’ _ to the sunroof on - at the park and ride. But Armitage was a professional. The right angle on the car park would afford someone a view right through those windows that his cover persona wouldn’t pay to tint. 

He was tempted though. Especially when his phone buzzed to inform him that his Swiss account had gotten a deposit of more than triple his usual fee. 

But, he drove home instead. Travelling to and from his office all the way in the city was frustrating to say the least. That was the cost of a good cover especially when he - lord forbid - actually had to teleconference with the few legitimate clients that he maintained. At least Armitage could do his research in peace safely tucked away behind a VPN intended to conduct his data security business through. 

Finally,  _ finally _ he pulled into his driveway. And grimaced. Armitage Hux, data consultant lived in a duplex with a shared garage. And the husband and wife housemates Armitage sometimes-liked-but-mostly-barely-tolerated had a tendency to take up a lot of space. Today  _ she  _ was tinkering with her eternal project of a classic car while  _ he _ plodded away at the never ending project of installing enough cabinets to store her tools. 

Armitage threw his car into park in the middle of the drive. There was a cabinet with a deep double sink right in the middle of his usual spot in the garage awaiting installation. Mm. The wide wave from the husband didn’t help dissuade the irritation.

The fact that he was shirtless while moving all the cabinetry around, well at least that wasn’t too bad. And Armitage had to be a good, personable neighbor. He waved back as he exited his car and grabbed his bag. These two were at least more tolerable than his previous neighbors. That pack of college brats didn’t afford him the nice view of muscle peeking from the edge of the wife’s crop top. 

“Evening, Hux,” she called despite still being wrist-deep in the engine block. She gave him a look from one eye as she turned her head to mark his passing to the front door. 

Armitage echoed her greeting. He made it to his front door and let himself in. Other days he might have stopped and asked how her progress was going on. She liked to talk about her pet project and on more than one occasion had saved Armitage’s ass with diagnosing what was wrong with his car. 

Clicking the lock behind him, Armitage’s shoulders dropped. Now, behind the blue-grey curtains that he  _ loathed  _ for how ineffective they were for blocking light in and out, he could somewhat be himself. His briefcase went next to the door to be ready for Monday, and his gym bag came upstairs with him to the lofted bedroom that held his desktop. Punching the power button to begin the boot cycle, Armitage settled into his normal, evening routine. 

Pre-heat the oven for dinner. Clean Millicent’s litter box. He was about to grab a quick shower - gym showers were a cesspool of bacteria that no cover story could force Armitage to weather - when he heard a peculiar disturbance to his typical evening. 

_ Ding-dong! _

The temptation to draw the knife he had taped under his vanity surged before being contained by rational thought. Danger didn’t come announced by light-hearted bell tones. Armitage pulled his shirt back on and padded down the stairs he’d so carefully stripped of carpeting upon moving in to the duplex. 

A single form wavered through the frosted glass windows that lined his front door. It was wide and shifted every few seconds. Armitage frowned as he considered ignoring the bell. Except his car was in the drive. And anyone that was a legitimate threat wouldn’t be dissuaded by common courtesy. 

Swallowing, Armitage re-plastered his friendly face on. “Hello?” he greeted as he opened the door. 

His neighbor - still shirtless - managed a smile even more painful than that stab wound from the rocky job in Anchorage. Armitage had no doubt that he was here at the behest of his wife. “Oh, sorry I didn’t recognize you through the window,” Armitage said quickly. 

“Course, course,” Kylo said quickly. His eyes flicked back to the garage and Kylo grimaced. “Hey so I know you’re busy a lot, but the wife wanted us to still do the neighborly thing and invite you to our cookout.”

Both men regarded one another. 

“I’m busy this weekend,” Armitage lied smoothly. It was only half a lie anyways; he had a contract to follow through on. Bobbing his head, Kylo remained uncomfortable. Armitage couldn’t ignore that kernel of guilt for having turned him down. He added, “But I would have loved-”

“It’s tonight, actually,” Kylo interrupted him. “I was supposed to mention it before today, but… well. Here I am now.”

Armitage peered over at the garage. Rey was sitting on the hood of her car wiping grease from her palms onto a rag. She somehow managed to send daggers at her husband while beaming brightly at Armitage. “I’m assuming this is just a reminder about tonight? And that Kylo did in fact ask a week ago when I’d originally asked him to?” she said loudly. 

He’d seen stronger men than Kylo fall to wounds just as fatal as Rey’s carefully aimed jabs. Armitage didn’t want them aimed at him. He could skim through the dossier and do a more careful study after putting in a few token hours at their barbecue. So, Armitage nodded. Rey’s smile turned a few watts brighter. “Great! We’ll see you at six-thirty!” she chirped. Just like that, she slid off her car’s hood and vanished into their side of the unit. 

Kylo muttered a vague apology for his wife’s brashness and ducked out from the doorway. Leaning against his once again closed door, Armitage laughed quietly to himself. Rolling with the punches was a part of life and the job. It just normally didn’t entail searching through his wardrobe for a shirt he wouldn’t be upset about spilling barbecue sauce on which  _ also _ concealed his SOB holster. 

The last few minutes before he would duck out the screen door to join his neighbors were spent rushing through his thoroughly off-put routine of taking out the trash and remembering that now he had to turn the oven off. Right as he was digging out his under-bed safe to temporarily store the still-unread dossier in, Armitage flipped through to see who he’d need to start researching. 

He was quite surprised when his neighbors’ faces stared back at him from a pair of Interpol mugshots. There was no mistaking Kylo’s surly scowl or Rey’s razor wire grin she brandished above her name card. What was even more interesting was that these two somehow were worth triple a typical job of Armitage’s. They must have made strong enemies. 

Armitage wondered just how many other members of international crime syndicates were hiding out in the suburbs tinkering with shitty cars and hosting bad barbeques. He checked the magazine on his pistol for comfort after locking away the rest of their files. The single weapon was all he’d risk without knowing more about either target. But now his eyes were far more open than they’d ever been. 

Who knew that a wheelman made really good potato salad? And that her enforcer husband was actually able to grill burgers to medium rare? 

Scooping out a second helping of salad, Armitage surveyed the collection of men and women in the yard. Everyone was a work acquaintance, someone whose interactions with the Rens was as shallow as Armitage’s. None knew the couple prior to last spring when they’d moved into the vacant unit next to Armitage’s. 

Conversations never stayed on the subject of family or childhood. When either came up, Rey glanced over at Kylo or excused herself to refill the waning lemonade dispenser. Then it was Kylo’s turn to use that booming, raucous voice of his to redirect talk to something more distant like sports teams or someone’s upcoming vacation. And Armitage just listened. 

He took in every detail that he could while standing around in the Rens’ section of the backyard. Normally he wouldn’t have given much more than a passing consideration for either of their interests that came up as deflection fodder. Now he needed that intel to predict their movements well enough to plan out a tragic accident. 

And it would be tragic. As much as Armitage’s laughs with Rey and Kylo’s awkward co-workers were forced, there was something about knowing of their past plots in Europe that gave new light to the couple’s apparently mundane lives. There was also the red-blooded side of Armitage that he’d always politely ignored which very much enjoyed having the Rens around to fantasize about - either Ren. 

He’d never had to kill his own neighbors before. Professionalism be damned, he wasn’t certain that he would be able to. 

“It was wonderful to have you by, Armitage,” Rey cooed when the night wrapped up. He was the last guest to leave, having lingered by the sliding glass door to his unit to secure a final goodbye with the couple. He told himself it was all for the purpose of gathering intel. Rey slung one arm around him in a friendly embrace. Kylo shook his hand and apologized once more to both Armitage and his wife for having forgotten to pass along the invite earlier. 

He smiled blithely. The apology went in one ear and out the other. “Thanks for having me,” Armitage said simply. Then he frowned. He’d already said that, just before Rey’s embrace. Licking his lips, Armitage tried to formulate something smooth to cover his fumble. 

“Sorry, must be the wine,” he apologized, holding up the offending plastic, disposable glassware. He’d emptied three or four of them over the course of the evening. A final mouthful went down before he threw the glass in a nearby trash bag. “And now she’s gone.” 

Rey’s smile faded. It was all that Armitage could focus on as spots swelled in his vision. “Oh Armie. I’d hoped this evening would have ended so much differently,” she said. 

Armitage’s legs turned to rubber. He went down sideways, grasping at the siding he’d carefully power washed at the beginning of the season. Confusion threatened to overwhelm him, but no, there was only one explanation for this. 

“You know,” he hissed. His fingers were sausages, unable to function quite as desired to grab at the gun in his holster. Kylo, that damned brick wall, was right behind him as well. His hands gripped Armitage’s shoulders keeping him not quite standing or sitting. 

Rey slid right into Armitage’s face, her palms patting him over and finding the pistol. Armitage could see her expression turn to a wry grimace as she turned it over. Everything was hazy and out of focus. 

“We knew Snoke would send someone eventually,” she replied. She looked at the sky now, wistful. “And Kylo noticed how your ‘fishing gear’ smelled like spent rounds in the garage a few months back. I’d only put it all together this week that you’d be the one Snoke’d call. But till then, Kylo still thought we’d be able to cut you into our next gig. We never have a good wetwork guy. He just-” Rey shook her head and laughed to herself. 

Kylo’s iron grip on Armitage remained even as Kylo edged towards his wife. Clearing her throat, Rey turned back to both men. “He just had to hire  _ you _ ,” she sighed. 

“Rey, we shouldn’t be talking about this here,” Kylo warned. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she spat back. “We need to run tonight. If he-” she jutted her chin at Armitage “-doesn’t phone in whenever he’s supposed to, we have to be gone. And Snoke’s not picky. He’ll call in another contract. You know that as well as I.”

Armitage listened to their rapid-fire arguing. It was all that he could do. His head was spinning and unless Kylo let go of both his arms and lost about twenty pounds of muscle, Armitage wasn’t going to be able to force his way out of this. 

Kylo clicked his tongue. “What makes you think he only called in one to start with?” he retorted.

“Snoke always did underestimate us,” Rey said. 

At that, Kylo chuckled. “True.”

“You need to disappear,” Armitage finally said. Or tried to say. His jaw was filled with rocks that made speaking a colossal effort. He repeated himself and added, “And I could still help you.”

Rey looked over Armitage’s shoulder, presumably at her husband. A silent conversation took place that Armitage hadn’t the ability to decipher. Whatever they’d drugged him with was in the last stages of kicking him out of his own consciousness. He clung to wakefulness, chewing on the inside of his cheek until he tasted salt and iron. 

“Double my contract and I’ll make you disappear,” he offered. 

“I don’t think you’re in the position to make demands,” Kylo growled. Rey shushed him. 

She gripped Armitage’s face in one hand and levered his own pistol to aim right between his eyes. “Why should we believe that you’d burn your own employer just for some extra cash?” she asked.

Her brown eyes were beautiful, even through the drug’s haze. Armitage found himself angry on her behalf that she wouldn’t get to finish restoring her stupid classic car. And that he wouldn’t get to talk shop with Kylo about hunting again. It wasn’t fair. No matter how this shook out, he would be dead and they would be gone. They needed to leave; and either they’d kill him or Snoke would for failing a contract. 

“It’s not about the cash,” Armitage said. He swallowed. “In fact, fuck the cash. Let me help you two disappear. Fake your deaths. Any good wetwork guy can do that. Please, I just…” It was too damn hard to talk. 

“You’d flip sides for nothing?” Kylo asked, stunned. 

Rey rolled her eyes. “You idiot, he’d flip to be our wetwork guy. Pay is pay. I told you we should have had this talk earlier in the week,” she said. In one blurred, dizzying motion she dragged Armitage up by the front of his shirt and dumped him into Kylo’s arms. 

“Why are we trusting that he wouldn’t just flip on us again?” Kylo continued to protest. Armitage very much wished to be let in on the reason as well, but his stolen time was up. His pulse thrummed in his skull, red and grey clouds overtaking his vision. Nothing was real anymore. Especially not Rey’s final comment:

“Well you see, Kylo. When a man loves his hot neighbor’s husband and finds out they could run away together-” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for some awesome prompts, Kure! I know this isn't *quite* the same thing as Spy!Hux, but I got latched onto the sniper side of your prompt and went assassin instead ^^;;
> 
> This fic is a part of the Reylux Spring Swap. Check out the collection (linked at the top of the work) and please do leave some love for the other authors and artists!  
> Happy Reyluxing!!
> 
> * * *
> 
> This story is part of **[the LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject)** , whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
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